The Phoenix Club (written as CJ Bishop)

CH 2: "Healing Touch"

A M B E R eyes raised slowly from downcast, and imprisoned Devlin's gaze the moment he slid aside the privacy curtain and discovered the boy sitting on the bed. His hands squeezed the edge of the mattress and a slight pinch contorted his cute face. There was a tightness around those enchanting eyes that betrayed the pain gripping his lean body.

Sudden movement from further behind the curtain forcibly dragged Devlin's eyes from the boy and he was met with a more formidable stare. The man looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties and was well over six feet – and built. Just from his exposed biceps, Devlin could see the man's muscles were tight, cut – rather than thick and bulky. Either the guy worked out religiously...or he engaged in some form of physical activity that kept his physique tight.

"I'm Dr. Grant." His focus was pulled back to the young man sitting on the bed. "And what happened here?" He walked over to the boy, unnerved by the sudden spike in heart rate as the kid captured his eyes yet again.

The other man's pale gray eyes swept over him with a glint of skepticism. "You're a doctor?" he asked doubtfully.

At twenty-five, Devlin got that question a lot. He smiled. "I'm an intern here at the hospital." He picked up the chart laying on the portable stand at the end of the bed. "How did you hurt your back?" The boy shifted on the edge of the bed but didn't answer. Devlin raised his eyes questioningly.

The other man cleared his throat, drawing Devlin's attention. "A ruckus down at the club. Drunk customer got a little pushy."

Devlin looked the guy over again. "Are you family?"

"Not officially." His lips twitched. "We both work at the club."

The boy continued to fidget uneasily, barely raising his eyes from the floor. "And which club is that?" The boy's head jerked up, his anxious eyes darting quickly to the other man.

"The Zodiac." the guy offered without hesitation. "A dance club downtown."

Devlin nodded and dropped his gaze to the chart again. "I've heard of it." He glanced at the boy's name. "Abel, is it?" He set aside the chart as the boy nodded. "Remove your shirt and I'll take a look."

Abel grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, started to lift it up, then gasped soft, face pinching hard. "I can't..."

"Here." Devlin took care in helping him slowly drawing his arms from the sleeves. The boy met his eyes in quick shots, his amber depths playing havoc with Devlin's heart rate. "How old are you, Abel?"

"Nineteen." he mumbled.

Devlin carefully slid the shirt up over his head, working his fingers around the collar so as not to jerk the kid's head in case he had a spinal injury. His fingers brushed against Abel's soft hair and he was assaulted with the sudden need to comb them more thoroughly through the deep blond strands. What is with you? Get control of yourself.

"Stand up." Devlin gripped his arm gently and helped him lift off the bed. His face pinched again as he tried to straighten up. "Don't force it." He had him turn around. A mild abrasion marred down the center of his back. "What exactly happened?"

"I..." the boy started then faltered.

"He was shoved against the corner of a door frame, pretty hard." the other man spoke up, once again answering the question for him.

"I see." Devlin murmured. He pressed his fingertips gingerly to various points on Abel's back. The boy sucked in sharply with nearly every touch and tensed. He had him lean over the bed as much as he could then ran his finger down his spine. The boy's tension seemed to grow and he detected a notable quickness to his breath. "You can turn back around."